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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196555">I Want You So Bad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_rita/pseuds/lovely_rita'>lovely_rita</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>...again, Angst, Hurt John, I just can't help myself, I'm just tagging that for one little part, Jealousy, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unhealthy Relationships, just in case</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:22:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_rita/pseuds/lovely_rita</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul has never loved John the way that John loves Paul.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Lennon/Paul McCartney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Want You So Bad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I do not mean to offend anyone with this. It is purely an AU where the Beatles were never a band. <br/>Anyways, please enjoy &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’d always liked Cavendish. He’d loved the smile on Paul’s face the first day he moved in, how he had swept the place with vibrant enthusiasm as he hooked eyes on the many rooms and the large driveway. It had made John smile, watching his lover bounce around with the fulfilment of his dreams in the palm of his hand. <br/>John remembers that day, the way Paul had locked eyes with him, unyielding emotion slicing the air between them until Paul had gone inside, with John not too far behind.</p>
<p>He’s at the front door now. He knows Jane’s away, she always is on a Thursday, and he knows he can have Paul to himself.</p>
<p><em>Oh, how he misses him</em>. It’s been too long since he’d looked at his slim figure and beautifully kept hair and that prepossessing face of his that always makes John want to melt on the spot.</p>
<p>He unlocks the door quietly, stepping into the familiar surroundings with a breath, the cold seeping from his fingers and the ends heat up in that way where he’s not always sure if the blood is still running to them. He crimps them stiffly into his sides, the immediate bark of Martha setting him into action. He shushes her quickly, pulling a treat out of his pocket that he knows will always keep her quiet for at least half an hour, and she takes it off him without hesitation. He stays still for a second, ears pricking for any sound of movement, but he deems Paul still asleep so moves into the kitchen with feather-like footsteps, the loud thud of Martha hitting the floor sounding behind him.</p>
<p>There’s an empty cup and plate on the side, and he makes himself useful, washing up the dishes like the many times before, feeling as though his presence is at least somewhat meaningful. He guesses Paul doesn’t mean it, but sometimes he can be dismissive of him, not caring for him the same way he does Jane, and the jealousy bites at the sides of John’s cheeks, teeth grinding as he dries the cup with a kitchen towel. It’s unfair, he thinks, because there should be no Jane. It should just be him and Paul. John would get rid of Cynthia in a heartbeat if it meant Paul was all for him, so he doesn’t see why the same doesn’t apply for Paul. It should be him here all the time. It should be him that kisses him before he goes to work and it should be him that gets to hold him at night. But that’s not the way it is and it’s all Paul’s fault for being a selfish bastard. John pushes the thoughts to the side violently, slamming a hand down onto the kitchen side with a harsh slap that sends his ears ringing. He pushes his hands to his ears and squeezes his eyes shut, holding his breath for a second as he tries to regain his thoughts. He can’t let them turn bad. Not when they’re about Paul.</p>
<p>He stacks the dishes with quivering hands, lips thinning as his eyes trace a cup in the corner, a lipstick mark smeared along the edges. She can clean her own mess up, he decides, and moves on.</p>
<p>There’s a pile of clean clothes in a basket, thrown in messily from when Paul had brought them in off of the washing line. Paul can be so messy sometimes, neat but disordered when it came to taking care of himself. John doesn’t blame him with the amount of work he does. He folds the shirts neatly, pressing a thumb down over the collars to keep them flat against the linen. He brings one up to his face, burying his nose into the fabric and smelling Paul; that earthy, homely smell that always makes John feel so much better. He takes a deep breath before he carries on, folding every item that he removes. He pulls out a pair of black lacy underwear and grimaces, chucking them onto the pile with no thought of folding them neatly with Paul’s clothes. Everything now reminds him that Jane lives here. He hates her bitterly, the way she treats Paul leaves John wounded because he could treat Paul so much better. She can’t do everything he can do for him. He wonders sometimes whether Paul will mind if she doesn’t come home one day.</p>
<p>He finishes the pile, noticing a flash of colour to his left. He looks over, noticing the tv is on but the volume has been turned down, and he wonders why Paul even bothered watching anything when he’s obviously so tired he’s gone to bed before it’s even eight o’clock. He turns it off and his eyes flick to the clock.</p>
<p>He doesn’t have long.</p>
<p>He goes back into the kitchen, passing a sleeping Martha at his feet before he makes a cup of tea. He makes it in Paul’s favourite mug, the red one with the little sheep on the side, and brings it into his room. Paul is asleep, the covers tossed aside as he sprawls out, still mostly fully-clothed. John smiles softly at the sight of him and sets the tea down on the bedside table. He gently unlaces Paul’s shoes, pulling them off quickly so that it won’t wake him, before folding the cover back over his body. John looks at his lover for a second, drinking in the sight of him before he crawls onto the bed, getting under the covers and sliding his body against Paul’s. He watches the way his eyelashes flutter with sleep, the way his cheeks have gone slightly pink with warmth. John trails a hand down his back, feeling the curve of his spine through the thin shirt. He brings his hand up swiftly, thumbing gently behind his ear before his fingers dabble gently in his hair. It’s slightly wavier than normal, and the grooves slide against his hand almost like silk. He touches his face, fingertips padding their way along his cheekbones, pressing slightly against his lips. Paul shifts slightly and John stills. When he doesn’t wake, John continues, mesmerized with that of the man he loves. John had never been shy of the word, and if Paul would let him, he’d say it to his face. He traces his lips softly over the jut of Paul’s collarbone, trailing his way up the side of his neck before he reaches his jaw. He peppers kisses delicately until he reaches Paul’s lips. He’s hesitant, but he presses their lips together, quickly pulling away almost as if nothing happened.</p>
<p>He hears the sound of a car outside and he knows that’s his cue to leave but he can’t help but look at Paul’s face just for a bit longer. This is the closest they’ve been in weeks, and John desperately hopes that next time they see each other Paul won’t push him aside for Jane again. He doesn’t think he can bare it a second time. He brushes the fringe from Paul’s face, lightly skimming his forehead with a soft touch that makes Paul lean into it. John’s not sure if he’s imagined it, but he smiles anyway, unabashedly grinning to himself as Paul’s eyebrows draw together.</p>
<p>The sound of the door unlocking causes him to pull away, and he moves out of the bed hastily, jostling Paul who grumbles slightly. John doesn’t have time to see if he had woken him, and so quickly hurries from the bedroom to the back door, shutting it firmly behind him before the visiting person can notice him there.</p>
<p>He breathes, the fresh air not as good as it was in Paul’s home, and he makes his way over to the other side of the house, standing underneath Paul’s window where he can hear a few voices.</p>
<p>“<em>I think he’s back.</em>”</p>
<p>The voice sounds distinctly like George, and John sighs, letting his back rest against the wall. He closes his eyes as he listens.</p>
<p><em>“How do you know?”</em>  </p>
<p>“<em>I found Martha by the front door again, and I heard noises when I came in.</em>”</p>
<p>Paul doesn’t answer, and John wishes that for once the younger man will stick up for him.</p>
<p>“<em>He’s made you that tea as well, hasn’t he?</em>”</p>
<p>George sounds angry but John doesn’t care. He only cares about his lover’s reaction, the key to getting him closer.</p>
<p>“<em>I guess,</em>” is Paul’s answer, feeble and sleepy.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Do you want me to call the police?”</em>
</p>
<p>John’s knuckles turn white and he pushes a fist to his mouth, a sob erupting from his lips when he hears Paul’s reply.</p>
<p>“<em>Yes please.</em>”</p>
<p>It seems John was right after all. Paul doesn’t love him as much as Jane.</p>
<p>Paul doesn’t love John anymore.</p>
<p>The anger builds in his veins and he heaves, bile painting the grass of Paul’s beautiful garden before he’s legging it. He doesn’t understand, he’s given Paul everything and yet he’s thrown him to the side like an old toy. Well, John doesn’t want to play anymore either. He makes his plans, hidden in the back alley off the side of the London road.</p>
<p>It seems if John can’t have Paul, then no one can.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please comment if you got it :)<br/>You can find me on Tumblr at @lovely-rita-meter-maidd so don't be afraid to come and say hi!!<br/>Thank you for reading, comments and kudos are very appreciated &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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